


The Shape of Time

by LSquared80



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Babies!, Casterly Rock, Complete Fantasy, Desperate to Keep Jaime Alive, F/M, Married Life, Spoilers for 8.05, Story is Rated PG but Epilogues get a bit racy, Story is complete but adding Epilogues, Tarth, time travel-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-03-07 22:14:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18882301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LSquared80/pseuds/LSquared80
Summary: Jaime is filled with regret as The Red Keep crumbles. Will he have a chance to go back in time and make better decisions?He would have given anything to change just one decision. To rewrite the story.You can.How? he wondered.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I was playing around with some AU ideas and what scenarios I could put J/B in because I simply cannot stop writing for them. I considered a riff on Outlander. This is not that, but at this point I believe the only way Jaime will live is through a bit of magic. This story was born from a combination of those two things.

He wanted to live. 

 

It was the resounding thought in Jaime’s head, louder than the roar of The Red Keep collapsing around him. He had only left the cold North and the warmth of Brienne’s bed to save the people Cersei would not. All of her guile, all of her armies – none of it was ever going to defeat the eventual retaliation of a Targaryen. 

 

Brienne had been right – they were going to destroy the city. 

 

And Jaime did not have to die with his sister. 

 

He had managed to ring the bells, surrendering as Cersei never would. He found her, frightened and shaking, and clearly not pregnant – even as she cried about wanting their child to live. All that remained was making sure his sister did not live long enough to cost anymore lives, and so Jaime held her and said exactly what Cersei always wanted to hear. 

 

Jaime searched for a way out and found none. Up until that moment he thought he could do it. Jaime thought he could sacrifice his life and his happiness if it meant saving innocent lives and putting a stop to Cersei. But as he tasted dust in his mouth and watched the grit rain down around him, all he could think of was that he’d never told Brienne he loved her. He’d never have a child to raise from birth, to be called _father_ openly and proudly. 

 

By the time Jaime realized he wanted to live, the world was crumbling around him. 

 

He looked at his sister, left hand clenching her by the arm and gold hand tight against her hip. “Cersei,” he said, and she looked certain of his devotion. “I want you to know that I never loved you the way I love Brienne.” 

 

Her eyes were wide with horror. “What did you-” 

 

Jaime kissed her forehead and said, “Goodbye,” as he pushed her away. Pushed her into the onslaught of stone, left her without the protection of his body. He took off running, away from the tidal wave of dust and ragged rock. He struggled to remove his gold hand, the extra weight slowing him down. Jaime let it fall onto the ground. 

 

He ran and ran, chased by the crumbling castle. He was spurred on by a chorus of all the things he needed to say to Brienne and his own sudden wild, willful desire to live. 

 

The dust was gathering closer, billowing around Jaime, filling his lungs. He coughed and choked and it clouded his vision. Ahead of him, the faintest light pierced through the soot. He moved toward it, reaching for the outside, for his escape. He fought against his weak legs and his searing wounds. Jaime fought to keep moving and to stay conscious long enough to immerse himself in the light, but he suddenly felt the ground beneath him and saw only darkness. 

 

*** 

 

_Open your eyes._

 

Jaime opened his eyes and squeezed them shut against the burning. He lifted his shirt, using the mostly clean underside to wipe the filth from his eyes. He was on his back, looking up at a beautiful blue sky. He tried to sit, but when he did the world blurred and spun. 

 

 _Stay still._

 

He called out, “Who is there?” He was met by only silence. 

 

Jaime wanted to move but felt as though his body was filled with lead. He could only stay on the hard ground, looking at the sky, horrified that he’d left his sister for dead and yet relieved to be free of her. To have shed the gold hand. To have left the hateful part of himself behind. To be alive. 

 

 _Not quite._

 

Jaime could not place the voice and was overcome by a sense of dread. Perhaps this was dying – on the hard ground, unable to move. He screamed inside, raged at all of his regrets. Why hadn’t he told Brienne he loved her and she meant the world to him? Why did he go back to Cersei time and again? He should have never returned to King’s Landing after Harrenhal; he and Brienne could have traveled to Tarth to recover from their respective injuries. Why didn’t he at least leave King’s Landing with Brienne and Oathkeeper? 

 

He would have given anything to change just one decision. To rewrite the story. 

 

 _You can._

 

How? he wondered. 

 

 _You must know where you want the story to end before it can have a new beginning._

 

“With Brienne,” Jaime said. 

 

 _The Seven will give you seven chances. If you fail to reach the end you desire each time, you will be brought back here. To die._

 

“How? What do I need to do?” Jaime asked, but the voice did not answer him. 

 

He shut his eyes, erasing the sky from his sight. He thought of all the chances he had to choose a life of honor and love with Brienne. He could not choose to go back to Winterfell and stay there with her; the ending of that story was death for so many, and probably them as well. If he could truly go back further, he knew exactly where to start. 

 

A moment later Jaime opened his eyes and found himself sitting on grass in the middle of the woods, his back pressed against the trunk of a tree and _both_ of his hands bound together. He smiled.


	2. On the Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime travels back to the time he was Brienne's prisoner, hoping to rewrite their story from the beginning. Did he choose the right time?
> 
> _“You’ve had enough beauty sleep, Kingslayer.”  
>  "And you haven't had enough."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read and left a comment. This has been fun to write and I hope it's a nice little diversion from the reality of the show.

The grass was soft beneath him, his legs sprawled. Jaime stared at his hands and spread the fingers of his right. It was an odd sensation to see and feel it there again. He flexed his fingers and curled them into a fist. He lifted his arms and felt his greasy, grimy hair; captivity was the last time it had been so long. He dropped his hands back to his lap; there wasn’t enough time to marvel at the return of his sword-hand or longer, youthful hair. 

 

“Get up,” Brienne sneered, appearing from around the other side of the tree. 

 

He smiled at the sight of her, serious and proud. Resistant to being a Lady and not yet a Knight. It thrilled him to look at her and think of all the triumphs she had to look forward to. He was certain this chance at rewriting the past would not erase all of Brienne’s good deeds and victories. He would see to it. Heat spread in his chest and he wanted to spring to his feet and kiss her. 

 

Brienne kicked his leg. “You’ve had enough beauty sleep, Kingslayer.” 

 

Jaime bristled at hearing her use the dreaded moniker of his past. He climbed to his feet and reminded himself she had not yet heard the truth behind the killing of The Mad King. She had not yet stood up for him as an honorable man. This was the very beginning of their story. He took a deep breath and steeled himself to being the Jaime Lannister of old. 

 

“And you haven’t had enough,” he spat, feeling an ache in his chest at the way her lip quivered. At how terribly hard Brienne tried to appear resilient to his wounding words. But if Jaime told her she was beautiful, she would only think he was being cruel. 

 

He had a lot of work to do. 

 

*** 

 

Jaime had to remind himself numerous times that he was not supposed to enjoy being Brienne’s prisoner. But there was something comforting about being crammed into a small rowboat with her, their legs crisscrossed. He had a new appreciation for her legs, for her height and strength. 

 

It was overwhelming at times to think of all the years, all of the moments – the earned respect, the dedication and love – that had transpired between them. And only he was aware. Only he carried the knowledge of their shared secrets and oaths and tender embraces. The heartache he had caused and the heartache he hoped he would never make her feel again. 

 

Jaime was going to make this first chance the only one he needed. 

 

*** 

 

“We should stop at the nearest inn,” Jaime said. As much as he wanted the chance to hold a sword in his right hand, he needed to prevent their sparring on the bridge. He needed to make sure they avoided Locke and the sharp edge of his blade. If he could get her to rest for the night they would be crossing the river long after the riders from House Bolton. 

 

“We should not,” Brienne responded. 

 

He laughed under his breath. “You won’t say it but I know your feet are aching inside those boots. And what you wouldn’t give for ale and a meat pie.” 

 

Brienne stopped walking. She clucked her tongue, annoyed at his accuracy. “You know it’s too much of a risk.” 

 

Jaime shrugged. “Then let’s camp right here for the night.” His eyes searched the area. He nodded his head toward a wall of trees. “We’ll be well hidden there.” 

 

She rolled her eyes but grabbed a handful of his cloak and yanked him in the direction of the forest. “Here is good,” she declared, stopping deep in the middle of towering trees and tall grass. Brienne motioned for Jaime to sit down and then she followed. The tree she chose had a wide trunk and they sat – not quite touching – resting their backs against it. 

 

“Now about that ale,” Jaime said, pointing to the canteen. 

 

She glared at him. 

 

“Use your imagination, wench.” 

 

Brienne handed him the canteen and Jaime tipped his head back. He passed it to her and she hesitated before taking a sip. 

 

“Do you prefer wine?” he asked, already knowing her preference. 

 

“I prefer water.” 

 

He let out a bellow of laughter and Brienne reached up, clasping her hand over his mouth. When she let go, he mouthed, “I’m sorry,” and then told her in a hushed voice, “I think if forced to choose you would go with wine. A good Dornish wine.” 

 

Brienne shrugged and looked away, hiding a yawn. 

 

“Why don’t you close your eyes?” 

 

“And let you run away?” 

 

Jaime shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, his tone too flirtatious. He cleared his throat. “If you release one of my hands and bind me to...” He wrinkled his nose, trying to infuse disgust into his voice as he finished his thought, “...you.” 

 

It didn’t take much more than that to convince Brienne, her eyelids heavy and her head pounding. She worked quickly to release his left hand and shackle him to her own wrist. Wordlessly, she maneuvered to rest on the ground. 

 

It was tricky with her height and Jaime watched, amused, as Brienne struggled to find comfort with a limited range of motion. She couldn’t face away from him without having his arm draped over her. He savored the brief seconds Brienne allowed it before wrangling herself onto her other side. But facing him was just as unpleasant and intrusive for her, so she settled on her back, arms straight at her sides and long legs stretched out. 

 

Jaime had no choice but to mimic her pose. He reclined beside her, shoulder to shoulder, and felt her tense. She tried to move her arm, but all she managed to do was lift Jaime’s hand onto her thigh. His thumb grazed her breeches before she rested their joined hands back on the ground between them. 

 

The sound of the light breeze rustling the leaves was soothing and despite his determination to succeed at his first chance, Jaime felt himself succumbing to sleep. But the sound of Brienne’s voice stirred him as she quietly said, “Kidney pie.” 

 

“Hmm?” 

 

“You said meat pie. I prefer kidney.” 

 

Jaime chuckled softly. “Goodnight, Brienne,” he said and felt her look at him. He cringed at his use of her name when they were still in a place of throwing around _wench_ or _beast_ and _Kingslayer_. It was nearly impossible to revert back to the days of berating and baiting her. 

 

*** 

 

He woke to the feel of her hair against his cheek. Jaime’s heart soared, feeling like they were back in her bed at Winterfell. But they were in the woods, on the grass, still captor and captive. Enemies. 

 

Brienne had shifted in the night and her head rested on his chest. He knew she would be horrified but he did not want to lose the weight of her there. The warmth. He forced himself to stay awake, to enjoy it. When he felt her move, Jaime quickly closed his eyes to make it seem he was unaware of the contact, sparing Brienne the embarrassment of having inadvertently taken comfort in his chest. 

 

“Get up,” she said, nudging him with her elbow. 

 

“A little longer,” he murmured sleepily. 

 

Brienne pulled on the rope. “Now.” 

 

“It’s not even daylight,” he said, looking up at the sky through the branches. There was only a hint of morning breaking through the dark. 

 

“We do not have time to waste.” 

 

Jaime nodded, slowly sitting up. 

 

Brienne twisted slightly toward him. She needed to release herself from the binds and secure him again without giving Jaime the chance to run or fight. 

 

He sensed her dilemma. “I’ll be good,” he said, and she freed herself. Jaime used the brief moment he had both hands free to jump to his feet. He flashed a smile down at her and took off running. He could hear Brienne’s feet crunching over leaves and twigs behind him and Jaime purposely slowed. He felt her hand swipe at his back, and soon she was close enough to give him a good shove. 

 

Jaime grunted and hit the ground on his knees. He felt Brienne behind him, hooking her arms under his to lift him up. He pushed back against her until she lost her footing and her hold on him. He stumbled, giving her time to stand and lunge at him again. This time, he fell onto his back but brought Brienne down with him, their arms and legs tangled and their faces inches apart. 

 

Jaime had been there before – happily trapped beneath her – and for a moment he forgot himself. He forgot that in that time and place, Brienne was still the Maid of Tarth and found him to be a disgusting excuse for a Knight of the Seven of Kingdoms. He began to issue an apology, but suddenly Brienne had unsheathed a dagger and pointed the tip at his throat. He searched for love and longing but saw only fury in her eyes. “You can’t kill me,” he said. “Remember the Stark girls.” 

 

Her face was twisted into a scowl and her hand shook, the tip of the blood trembling near Jaime’s skin. 

 

He blinked and suddenly it wasn’t Brienne above him but the same blue sky where he heard the voice speaking for the Seven. 

 

“That was it?” Jaime asked. “That was all the time I had?” 

 

_She mistrusts you deeply. You should not have run if you hoped to gain her trust and affection._

 

He couldn’t argue with that. Jaime realized he’d gone too far back in time. “I have six more chances.” He closed his eyes, thinking of the moment Brienne tried to return Oathkeeper and made him face the possibility of fighting her on the battlefield. “I know where to go now,” he said.


	3. Riverrun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will the third time be the charm for Jaime? 
> 
> _It was difficult to comprehend this version of themselves – polite, restrained, restricted by opposing loyalties. He didn’t know how to change the conversation, how to break the tension. He repeated the past, saying, “Let’s hope it doesn't come to that.”_

"Honor compels me to fight for Sansa’s kin,” Brienne said. 

 

“Of course, it does.” 

 

“To fight you.” 

 

Jaime found himself standing across from Brienne, knowing she was about to walk away. Knowing the next glimpse of her would be as she drifted further and further away on the water. It was difficult to comprehend this version of themselves – polite, restrained, restricted by opposing loyalties. He didn’t know how to change the conversation, how to break the tension. He repeated the past, saying, “Let’s hope it doesn't come to that.” 

 

She studied his face for a beat, giving Jaime the chance to say something that would keep her there longer. When he didn’t, she turned and ducked to exit the tent. 

 

He reached out, catching her by the wrist. 

 

Brienne backtracked and looked at him expectantly. She looked down at where his fingers curled around her wrist, almost scandalized by the contact – so far from the woman who woke him most mornings in Winterfell with kisses and curled up naked beside him each night. 

 

Jaime was at a loss for words. He stared and swallowed and stared. _Fuck_ , he thought, _I’m failing at this chance_. “Lady Brienne, I...” He stalled, his mind racing. He took her hand and urged her to follow him further back in the tent, into the shadows. “I would never let it come to that.” 

 

She questioned him with the set of her eyes, the wrinkle in her forehead. 

 

He spoke in a soft, low voice. “I do not want to return to King’s Landing.” 

 

Shock registered on Brienne’s face. 

 

Jaime thought how as far as Brienne knew, they have never touched unless necessary. Only a hand covering a hand to prevent an impulsive reach for a knife. Only what a situation called for – escaping a bear pit, catching him before he could drown in the bath. Their contact had been mostly utilitarian. The two of them had always communicated the most with their eyes. 

 

His thumb stroked the soft underside of her wrist. Jaime whispered, “I will see that you leave here safely. With me.” 

 

Brienne trembled – her hand inside his, her lips, her chin. “Ser Jaime.” 

 

He could sense her confusion. She seemed almost disappointed in him, speaking of disloyalty as if he hadn’t just reminded her what an improbability it was that he'd ever betray his house. “It has to stop. The hold Cersei has on me. I cannot do her bidding, Brienne. She sent me here to murder every man, woman, and child in the way of what she wants.” 

 

“Ser Jaime,” she said again, never able to complete her thought. 

 

He lifted her hand and held her palm flat to his chest. “She is a hateful woman and she compels me to do hateful things. I can’t go back. I won’t go back.” Jaime was caught in a spiral, everything he’d ever wanted to say to Brienne about his sister spilling out. “She has never cared about her children. She doesn’t even care about me. Not really. Only in that she must have someone who needs her. Someone who will do anything for her. Let us leave here together and go somewhere new. I’ll change my name.” He felt Brienne’s fingers spread slightly beneath his hand. He couldn’t tell if she wanted a better hold on him or to be released. “Say something. Say you don’t want me to go back there.” 

 

“Ser Jaime, I don’t... it’s not for me to...” 

 

She was flustered and he was losing control. He pulled his hand away and waited. 

 

Brienne looked at her fingers spread against his chest, against the warm leather of his jerkin. She moved back quickly, as if she’d been burned. 

 

He needed more time. Meeting at Riverrun, it had been too long since they last breathed the same air, and she was there to work on behalf of Sansa Stark. Brienne was not in a position to be romanced by grand gestures or confessions. She was startled rather than charmed. Scared more than enamored. “This isn’t working,” he groaned. 

 

Jaime’s body convulsed as he returned to his present time, on his back staring at the sky. “I still have five chances,” he declared loudly. “I have a question, if I may.” 

 

 _Yes?_

 

“When I fail, it doesn’t change the past? Brienne is not sitting at Winterfell right now with a memory of me going on a tangent about changing my identity?” 

 

 _No. When you realize you picked the wrong time to return to, the past remains as it was before. Right now, Brienne recalls leaving the tent and later waving to you from afar._

 

“Good,” he said. “Can I go back there again? For a moment more? I’d like to kiss her.” 

 

 _It would be your third chance._

 

Jaime sighed. "Fine.” He pored over his memories, forwards and backwards. He needed to find a time they were bonded, and for his own selfish reasons a time it would make more sense to embrace her. A time when emotions were heightened and they were connected through the thrill of survival. When she owed him a debt for saving her life. 

 

“I’m ready,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third time's the charm? Not for Jaime. This was a quick one! Thanks to everyone who has read and left a comment. :)


	4. The Maiden Fair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime uses another stretch of time on the road to attempt to win Brienne's heart and escape his future in King's Landing. 
> 
> _Jaime had already heard the story, of course, but it was exactly what he wanted – to see Brienne excited, to listen to her eloquent voice, to feel some shred of the intimacy they’d built in Winterfell._

Jaime took himself back to the day Brienne fought a bear. Specifically, to the midst of their hasty retreat from Harrenhal after he’d jumped in to rescue her. 

 

There were not enough horses for Brienne to have her own. She rode with Jaime, in front of him as she had two good hands to grip the reigns. He grasped a handful of the pink dress she had been given, and though in the original version of their story he kept a great valley of space between them, this time Jaime left little room between their bodies. His legs tapped against hers with each gallop of the horse. He slid his hand from her hip to her stomach, tightening his grip, and she tensed beneath his palm. 

 

They came upon a meadow where the river rushed over soft stones. It was far enough from Harrenhal and Locke that they felt safe stopping, and Qyburn had been warning Brienne for miles to let him tend to her wounds. 

 

The once-Maester cleaned the gashes where the bear had clawed at her flesh. He applied a salve that made Brienne wince and suck a sharp breath between gritted teeth. When he was satisfied with his work, she thanked him and walked toward the river. 

 

Jaime watched her, the pink dress dragging across the wet grass, collecting even more dirt. He followed after her and stood beside her at the river’s edge. The sound of the water was soothing and filled the silence. He was not in a hurry to speak; it was troubling for Jaime to be back in the time where he had so recently lost his sword hand. 

 

“I’m not ungrateful,” Brienne said a while later, startling Jaime from his thoughts. 

 

He looked at her. “Hmm? Ungrateful?” 

 

“I’m saying, I realize I have yet to thank you. It’s only that...” 

 

“It’s only what?” Jaime asked, turning to face her profile. Her hair was disheveled and he could see a bruise blooming on her cheek. Blood soaked through the bandages Qyburn had used to cover the wounds on her collarbone. One sleeve of the dress was torn and stained. She looked exhausted and beaten and resilient and captivating. 

 

Brienne looked at him. “Why did you come back for me?” 

 

_Because I love you. Because my life would be without honor and grace if I had lost you so soon._

 

“I learned of your probable fate and had no other choice,” he said. 

 

“Ser Jaime, you put your life at risk. We could have both died in that pit.” 

 

Jaime nodded and then told her, “But we didn’t. We’re here. And you need not thank me, Lady Brienne. You saved me as well.” 

 

“Only because you jumped in the pit!” 

 

He took a step closer. “You seem quite angry that I aided in your escape. Would you rather I had not returned?” 

 

Brienne shook her head. “No, of course not. I simply don’t... I don’t understand why...” 

 

Jaime held his breath until his lungs burned. He had to tread carefully; if he came on too strong Brienne would be suspicious and ultimately, he would fail at giving their love a new start. He had to strike the right balance, to endear her to him without raising doubt. “You’re the only person who knows the truth about me,” he told her. “If you die...” Jaime’s breath snagged in his throat. His bottom lip quivered and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to maintain composure. The emotion was raw and real and took even him by surprise. 

 

The corners of her mouth lifted into a brief smile. She gave one nod of her head. 

 

“You should...” Jaime reached up, touching the edge of the bandage covering her injuries. The cloth was almost completely soaked through, the blood bright and eerie. “You need Qyburn,” he said, moving to stand beside her and holding his left hand to the small of her back. He walked with her across the grass and caught Brienne sneaking a glance at him. He smiled, thinking this time might work. 

 

*** 

 

Overnight, Jaime decided he would invite Brienne to forage for berries in the morning. He needed to get her alone. He was putting them both at risk if he let Qyburn or any of Bolton’s men overhear him speak poorly of Cersei. 

 

His eyes searched the meadow and he saw only the other men, still asleep on the ground or pissing behind a tree. Jaime wandered off toward the river. He walked along the bank and his pulse began to race. Had she run off? Had someone taken her in the night and stifled her screams? Panic gripped his throat and his pace increased until he was running. He almost shouted for the Seven to take him back, to take him out of this moment if anything bad had happened to her. 

 

The river narrowed where it became surrounded by the forest and that was where Jaime found Brienne. She had gone deep into the woods for privacy. He looked away and then could not help himself, standing behind a tree to gaze at her. She had dipped her hair in the water; it was slicked back and the top of her dress was damp. There was a pile of clothing on the grass; a shirt and breeches she’d borrowed from Bolton’s men. She struggled to reach the laces on the back of the dress. The bodice was too tight to lift over her head and she’d had a woman at Harrenhal to fasten her into the hideous garment. Jaime grinned at the way she twisted and bent and growled in frustration. 

 

He announced his presence by clearing his throat, and when she turned around, he said, “I know I have limitations but perhaps three hands will be better than one?” 

 

Brienne heaved a sigh and waved him over. 

 

Jaime stood behind her and studied the lacing up the back of the dress. It would take a while but he didn’t mind. The difficult task allowed him the opportunity to ease into the conversation he wanted to have. “I have a confession,” he said. 

 

“Another?” 

 

He laughed. “Not like that.” 

 

Brienne could feel the fabric loosen between her shoulders. “Go on,” she said. 

 

“I don’t want to stay in King’s Landing.” 

 

“What?” She spun around. “That is all you have wanted. All this time I’ve had to hear about-” 

 

“It’s all I’ve _known_ to want,” Jaime said softly. 

 

Brienne turned back around, signaling for him to continue to pick and pull at the laces. “I don’t understand.” 

 

“My sister has done terrible things and so have I. When you exchange me for the Stark girls, I’m going to be her pawn again. This whole time I’ve been away...” He trailed off as the fabric opened up around her back and Jaime’s hand shook with longing to trace a line down the rope of her spine. 

 

She stepped away and faced him, feeling he’d done enough. “This whole time? What, Ser Jaime?” 

 

“Lady Catelyn once said you are a truer knight than I’ll ever be. This time away from Cersei... it’s made me feel like I could be that kind of knight again. That kind of man. Good. Honorable.” 

 

The way Brienne was looking at him, Jaime thought his heart might burst. He didn’t know if he could contain his hunger for her any longer. She had such pure eyes, such tenderness. She wanted to see the good in him and had always been one of the only – if not _the_ only – person to believe he was capable of good. 

 

“Are you going back on your promise?” she asked. 

 

His eyes widened and he shook his head. “No, no. I intend to make sure Sansa and Arya are safe. I only want...” Jaime thought about what he had gotten wrong his first two chances. He was so eager to start anew with Brienne that he said too much too soon. He needed her to understand where he wanted his life to go – toward her and away from Cersei – without betraying the sense of honor and loyalty she had just so recently come to see in him. 

 

“I only wanted you to know that I am not going back to King’s Landing the same man I was before. And it has nothing to do with the loss of my hand,” Jaime told her, holding her gaze for a long while. 

 

Brienne nodded her head once. 

 

It was only now, after years of staring longingly and restrained yearning that Jaime could tell from her face, she was holding back tears. He glanced at the cleaner clothes piled on the grass and knew Brienne wanted to exchange the hideous, bloody pink monstrosity for breeches. “I’ll leave you to dress,” he said 

 

*** 

 

The speed of their return to King’s Landing was thwarted by the elements and a sick horse. Before, Jaime insisted they forge ahead, but he was the one to suggest they seek shelter at the nearest inn. He poured ale into the cups of Bolton’s men and covertly whispered for the innkeeper’s daughter to make sure the cups were never empty. 

 

While the men roared with laughter and sang and some fell asleep, Jaime sat in a corner with Brienne. She was quiet, responding to him with few words or only a nod or shake of her head. He attempted to pour ale into her cup and when she covered the top with her hand, heat spread through his body at the memory of a celebration in Winterfell. The prelude to their first night together. 

 

Jaime peeled her hand away and said, “It will keep you warm.” He leaned back. “My brother has a game he likes to play whenever there is ale or wine to drink.” 

 

“I don’t like games,” Brienne said. 

 

He rolled his eyes. “You don’t even know what it is yet.” 

 

“Tell me then.” 

 

“I make a statement about you regarding the past. If I’m right, you have to take a drink. If I'm wrong, I do.” 

 

Brienne glared at him. 

 

“Like this,” he said, pretending to think and study her. In reality he already knew the truth. "Your favorite food as a child was a turnip.” 

 

Her lips puckered in disgust. “I loathe turnips.” 

 

Jaime picked his cup up from the table. “So now I have to take a drink,” he said, and he did. 

 

“This is stupid.” 

 

He laughed. “It’s my turn again.” He chewed his bottom lip, thinking, reaching into his memory. He recalled a story Brienne had told him one night in bed, their bodies pressed together, slick with sweat. She had told him a story from her childhood about the cliffs of Tarth and how despite her love of water and risk, she feared jumping into the sapphire sea from such a great height. Determined, though, a young Brienne had decided the middle of the night – no one to see her fear, no one to see her possibly fail – was the best time to confront her phobia. _I was successful at the jump but had not taken into consideration the challenge of navigating the sea in darkness._ Jaime smiled and said, “You have always been good at swimming but have nearly drowned at least once in your life.” 

 

She was quiet, her eyes fixed on him. “I would not say I’ve nearly _drowned_ ,” she countered, her exasperation charming. “Lost at sea once, perhaps, but never in danger of drowning.” 

 

Jaime pushed the pitcher of ale aside so he could lean closer, folding his arms on the table. “Lost at sea? This I must hear more of.” 

 

She hesitated, making a face as if to say there wasn’t much to tell. But Brienne’s eyes smiled and she launched into the tale of leaving her bed in the middle of the night and overcoming her fear only to start swimming to shore in the wrong direction. 

 

Jaime had already heard the story, of course, but it was exactly what he wanted – to see Brienne excited, to listen to her eloquent voice, to feel some shred of the intimacy they’d built in Winterfell. 

 

***

 

The remaining days of their journey were filled with sun and a surprising amount of laughter. Jaime was proud of himself for being patient, for building a comfortable rapport with Brienne no matter how badly he wanted to capture her in his arms and claim her mouth with a searing kiss. 

 

When they reached King’s Landing, it was anti-climactic. It was the last place Jaime wanted to be. 

 

***

 

His hair had been cut and he bathed. He was dressed in his own clothes again. It was to Jaime’s benefit that Cersei was disgusted by his loss of hand, and rather than fight for her attention he wandered the grounds. 

 

It came as no surprise that Brienne had found a group of children fighting with wooden swords and ended up coaching them. Jaime stood in the tall grass and watched her and watched the boys staring up at her, the sun a halo around her head. One of the boys belonged to his cousin, and when the man came upon Jaime watching Brienne with a smile of admiration, he said, “Is that tall beast a _friend_ of yours?” 

 

***

 

Jaime knew he needed to be careful. He had already been seen with Brienne or staring at her from afar, and tales of his infatuation had reached Cersei. He devised a plan to send her off with Sansa and fake his death, joining her later under a new name. It was the only way to ensure Cersei did not try to find him, and because she would not have Sansa to accuse of Joffrey’s death, she would forget about Brienne. 

 

He snuck away to Brienne’s chambers in the middle of the night to set his plan in motion. She opened her door to him, bewildered, eyes heavy with sleep. He sounded crazed as he explained the plot, but he’d earned her trust and proven his friendship and when Jaime cupped her cheek with his left and pleaded with her to go, she said, “I will, ser Jaime.” 

 

But he was too late, and at that very moment there was a disturbance on the balcony outside her window. They both saw the shadow of a man and when Jaime opened the main door to see if she had a safe escape route, he saw a figure lurking and the glint of a blade. He shut the door and went to her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I messed up. But it’s not over. I have another chance.” 

 

Brienne questioned him with her eyes, but she didn’t have time to ask what he meant by another chance. There were at least two men on the prowl for her life and she made a start to get her sword, confused and bothered when Jaime reached out and grabbed her by the back of her shift. 

 

He locked his arm around her waist, holding her tight to the front of his body. Jaime pressed his lips to hers, reveling in the closeness, in the heat between their bodies. He heard glass breaking and broke the kiss to say, “End this now.” 

 

Jaime shivered, his eyes opening with a start, and he was on his back again staring at the sky. He wanted to scream. His next chance was the fourth. If it failed, he could not let the fifth fall apart as well. He could not risk having so few chances left. 

 

It seemed obvious to return to Winterfell and never leave, but regardless of how happy he and Brienne could be in the North, it wouldn’t change the war for the Iron Throne. Cersei would still refuse to surrender and she would still destroy the lives of all the innocent people of King’s Landing, and if not, she would send her army to extinguish every last one of her surviving enemies. Jaime and Brienne would be on that list. Even if he could get into King’s Landing without being captured as a traitor to kill Cersei, he would likely not make it out alive after. 

 

“I don’t know what to do,” he cried out, shutting his eyes. The gods provided no answer and he continued to talk through it in his head. If he returned to a time during one of his long separations from Brienne, even if he could eliminate the obstacles to their eventual happiness, he would have no control over her safety and it could take years to reunite. He needed the perfect confluence of events – being in Brienne’s company, the threat of Cersei gone, no one to capture and kill him. 

 

Jaime opened his eyes and smiled. “Perhaps I have not gone back far enough.” 

 

*** 

 

He felt as though he were falling and landed with a thump on the floor of a familiar room. He was in King’s Landing, in a makeshift cell, awaiting his punishment by the newly crowned King Robert for the murder of Aerys Targaryen. 

 

Jaime sat up and looked at his hands. He had two, and they were younger, with very few scars and callouses. He reached behind his head and felt much longer hair, and when he touched his face there was no hair, no stubble – only youthful skin. He hopped to his feet, finding it much easier to do so in the body of his teenage self. 

 

“My father,” he called out through the bars. “I need to speak with my father.” 

 

The men guarding him were conflicted, as only days ago Jaime had been one of them. They begrudgingly answered his call, fetching Tywin and leaving the two alone on opposite sides of the bars. 

 

“King Robert is leaning toward the Night’s Watch, I fear,” Tywin told him. 

 

Jaime shook his head. “You don’t want that any more than I do,” Jaime said. “Do you know what I regret most, father?” 

 

“What?” 

 

“How I disappointed you by joining the Kingsguard. If I had listened to you long ago, if I had agreed to marry and give you an heir, we wouldn’t be here right now.” 

 

Tywin was silent. 

 

“If only there were time to remedy that,” Jaime sighed. “It would be the greatest punishment of all for me!” He looked at his father and saw his wheels spinning. 

 

“Nonsense,” Tywin said, surprising Jaime. “Who would agree to have their daughter marry The Kingslayer?” 

 

“You make a good point, father. But you forget I have the Lannister charm. There must be a highborn lady in need of a husband enough to at least consider it. Someone aged. Someone _ugly_ , perhaps.” 

 

***

 

The cell was oddly comfortable for Jaime. It could have been his younger body much more tolerable of the hard surfaces, but he thought it had more to do with the time he had to think. The stone walls and floor were like a blank canvas, and Jaime was able to stare for hours playing out various scenarios and even thinking ahead in case this chance did not work. 

 

He was pulled from a daydream about their first night in their marriage bed when he heard his father’s voice. “Yes?” Jaime asked, on his feet quickly. 

 

“You’re in luck, son. King Robert was agreeable to the idea of marrying you off. Your sister is now betrothed to him and you will be pardoned.” 

 

“Who is the lady?” Jaime asked, knowing what to say if he needed to steer his father to Tarth. 

 

Tywin briefly closed his eyes, as though it pained him to say. “King Robert said he knows just the lady. Her father has called for suitors and you’ll be sent there straight away. If you don’t succeed, Jaime, you will be sent to the Night’s Watch. Or worse.” 

 

He nodded, eager to agree and distracted by something else. “The lady, father? Where are you sending me?” 

 

Tywin grimaced. “Tarth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I appreciate all the comments people have taken the time to leave. 
> 
> I probably messed up the timeline of Jaime becoming the Kingslayer and Cersei being promised to Robert, but this suited the story best so I'm taking liberties.


	5. Tarth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime arrives on Tarth and needs to convince Brienne and her father he's worthy of her hand in marriage.
> 
> _Jaime told her, “You look pretty,” because she did._
> 
> _Brienne scoffed, offended. “Did my father tell you to say that?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always thought of Jaime as roughly 10 years older than Brienne, which was a tad too icky for this part of the story. I'm not calling out her age, but wrote it thinking she's about 16 while Jaime is inhabiting his 18 year old self.

The point of the journey by sea was to reach Tarth and win over the hearts of Brienne and her father, but an unexpected side effect for Jaime was that he’d never felt closer to his own father. 

 

Tywin was proud, putting the death of Aerys firmly in the past and latching onto the fact that his golden son was closer than ever to carrying on the family name. Jaime impressed him by suggesting he cut his hair, thinking it would make him look more grown-up and refined. 

 

The morning the ship careened toward the dock, Jaime’s chest swelled with excitement and trepidation and determination. He had to tamper his glee, maintaining the idea this was still a form of punishment. 

 

*** 

 

The gates of Evenfall Hall opened upon their arrival. Tywin walked ahead of Jaime, reminding his son to let him do all of the talking. Tarth was a beautiful island and Evenfall Hall a striking home. Jaime could hear the waves crashing against the cliffs from where they stood. 

 

Inside, Tywin was taken to meet with Lord Selywn Tarth while Jaime had to stay behind. He followed, though, and listened outside the door. It was as he expected – Lord Selwyn aghast that he should marry his daughter to the Kingslayer and Tywin listing his son’s previous honorable deeds and reminding the other man his daughter had not had much luck with suitors. 

 

Jaime wandered through the house until he was outside again. He chose to go right, finding the stables. He busied himself visiting the horses until he heard a noise coming from outside. He went behind the stable and looked down from atop the hill. He knew immediately the young woman fighting an imaginary opponent with a wooden sword was Brienne. 

 

She was already her full height. Her blonde hair was chopped to just above her shoulders. It looked to Jaime even from afar as though she had probably cut it herself. She wore breeches and a shirt not unlike the one under his armor. He made a move to descend the hill. Jaime lost his footing, sliding down, landing on his bottom. 

 

Brienne took a defensive posture even though her sword was nothing but a toy. His armor and sword gave him away as a knight, and while that relieved of her of a sense of danger, she looked at him with disappointment. “I should fight you and win,” she said. “For a knight unable to descend a hill without landing on his arse must not be much of a knight at all.” 

 

She was definitely Brienne. 

 

“The grass is wet,” he said in his defense, standing. He walked the short distance to where she stood. Up-close, Jaime saw she did not yet have a scar above her lip. Her features were disproportionate, her mouth and teeth too big for the rest of her face. He knew it was the reason Brienne rarely smiled as an adult, even though he’d always found her mouth alluring and her rare smiles radiant. 

 

“It hasn’t rained in a fortnight.” 

 

“I’m wearing new boots,” he countered. 

 

Brienne looked down and said, “They look quite weathered to me.” 

 

Jaime grinned. It was odd to see her so young while he still had his memories of all their years of knowing each other, and especially of their time together at Winterfell. But he had to overcome it and be patient with time itself. 

 

“Who are you?” she asked. 

 

“Ser Jaime,” he responded. “I’m here to meet a young lady by the name of Brienne.” 

 

Her eyes knitted closer together, studying his face. “I don’t see any ladies around here. Do you?” 

 

Jaime’s heart ached knowing that even so young, Brienne had been treated so rudely that she met newcomers assuming they would not accept her. That she had probably started refusing her title of Lady because boys questioned how she could possibly be one. “I’m looking at one now,” he said. 

 

Brienne blushed, casting her eyes down. 

 

“How old are you?” he asked, and when she responded he did the math, realizing he wouldn’t be comfortable marrying her for at least another two years. “Are you Brienne?” 

 

She nodded. 

 

He extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Lady Brienne,” he said, and once she had accepted the gesture he added, “I’m Jaime Lannister.” 

 

She wrenched free of his grasp as though he’d seared her skin. “The Kingslayer!” 

 

_Not this again_ , he thought. 

 

*** 

 

It was an intense few days at Evenfall Hall. Jaime behaved courtly and was helpful. He went without his armor, living more as a member of the household staff than a guest. No task was beneath him, and on the third night he stood from the dinner table to clear the empty plates himself. 

 

“Leave it be for now, young man,” Selwyn said. He asked Jaime to accompany him on a walk and the two of them departed, catching Brienne watching from a window. “I respect your father, Jaime. It’s the reason I agreed to this meeting at all.” 

 

“You have to understand something,” Selwyn went on. “I cherish my daughter. She is my life. I’ve never remarried and have no other living children. Even so, I would never marry her off to someone I suspected of being dishonorable.” Jaime began to speak but Selwyn went on to say, “She is a restless young lady. It is not easy to contain her. I’ve always known if she did marry, the man would have to be brave. He would have to be understanding and accepting. He could not expect a wife who wears dresses and sits about knitting all day. In conclusion, young man, I need to see two things in you. Honor and the ability to keep up with my daughter.” 

 

“I understand.” 

 

“You’ve impressed me, it is true. But how am I to believe a knight, a member of the Kingsguard, no less, could murder his king and still be considered honorable? Does that not disqualify you immediately?” 

 

“No, Lord Selwyn, it does not.” Jaime paused, thinking of the baths at Harrenhal. The only time he had ever spoken the truth about the Mad King’s death was in the midst of a fever and while looking into the kind eyes of Brienne. “I swore an oath to the King. I cannot speak of what happened behind closed doors. All I can say to you is that I do not regret what happened and I would ask you to judge me not for something you did not see firsthand... but for what you see of me here. Now.” 

 

Selwyn considered him a long time before resuming their walk. Later, when everyone was together in the house, Brienne referred to Jaime as the Kingslayer and Selwyn scolded her, saying it was rude. “Address him by his name, Brienne. Call him Ser Jaime.” 

 

*** 

 

He could never find Brienne. She never sat still, never stayed in one place for long. 

 

She would show up for a meal with streaks of mud on her clothes and caked under her nails. Sometimes she reeked of sweat and the stables, other times Jaime picked up notes of the sea – the clean salt, earthen wet rocks – clinging to her skin and hair. 

 

Jaime caught sight of her one morning, taking off on foot down the path that led from Evenfall Hall to the main road. “May I join you?” he asked, darting across the grass to catch up to her. 

 

“Did my father send you?” she asked. 

 

He shook his head. Brienne stood against the backdrop of a velvet sunrise – wisps of violet clouds where the sun had yet to spread, dusty rose, vibrant orange. There was a slight breeze and it ruffled her hair. Something about the soft morning light accentuated her eyes and kissed her skin with a warm glow. Jaime told her, “You look pretty,” because she did. 

 

Brienne scoffed, offended. “Did my father tell you to say that?” 

 

“No, Lady Brienne.” 

 

“You don’t have to do this. Kingslayer or not, I refuse to believe Jaime Lannister doesn’t have other options.” _Prettier options_ , she meant, but left it unspoken. “You should do like all the rest and take your leave of me, Ser. You would be doing both of us a favor,” she said, turning and running down the path, arms pumping at her sides, clouds of dust in her wake. 

 

*** 

 

The day had arrived for Lord Selwyn to make a decision and Jaime nervously paced the grounds. He ended up in the training yard and practiced with a tourney sword, jabbing and swiping at the air. Lunging and parrying. 

 

“I supposed you’re not bad.” 

 

Jaime heard Brienne’s voice and searched, finding her hidden in the trees. “I’m the best, for your information, Lady Brienne.” 

 

She rolled her eyes as she walked toward him. She selected a tourney sword of her own. “I disagree with that. If you are better than me it is only because boys are always given more lessons.” 

 

He smiled, laughed, knowing she was right. “That is not fair, is it?” 

 

Brienne shook her head, her eyes wide, a little surprised at how easily he agreed with her. 

 

He took a step closer to her. Jaime pointed the blunt tip of his sword at the dirt and said, “Brienne of Tarth, I challenge you to a fight.” 

 

“A fight for what?” she asked, wary. 

 

He considered the question. He didn’t want to say _for your hand in marriage_ , because he hated the thought of denying Brienne any agency in the matter. Jaime had made a decision. If he could convince her and Lord Selwyn that a union between them was best, and he decided this was the final chance he’d take on a new beginning for them, he would see to it that Brienne achieved every dream she ever had. He would still make her a knight. He would do everything in his power to help her keep any oath she ever made. He would love her and never leave her. 

 

“Bragging rights,” Jaime finally answered. 

 

Brienne took her place across from him, and moments later when Selwyn and Tywin found them, the men came upon a delighted young lady with smears of dirt on her face and a smile she simply could not contain. 

 

Tywin was worried Jaime had started trouble, but Selwyn saw a young man who understood his daughter’s interests and did not judge her. 

 

“Alright,” Selwyn said. “I accept your offer.” 

 

*** 

 

Jaime pressed his ear to the door. He could only hear the hum of two different voices until Brienne’s rang loud and clear as she said, “What about what I want?” 

 

He quickly shuffled backward, throwing himself against the wall as the door opened. He failed to look nonchalant, and Brienne huffed and rolled her eyes at him and stomped away. 

 

Jaime chased after her down the hall, their boots smacking against the floor in a frenzied pace. He caught up to her outside, near the edge of the cliff overlooking the sapphire water. He bent at the waist, hands on his thighs as he caught his breath. “I don’t know how to do this,” he said, his voice raspy. 

 

“What, run? I can see that.” 

 

He smiled, amused. “No, I don’t know how to court a lady. I’ve never done this before.” 

 

Her expression softened. “First, I’m not a lady. Stop calling me that. And second, I find that hard to believe about you.” 

 

“I’ve never had to prove my worthiness as a husband.” 

 

“You don’t have to,” she said. “Our fathers have already made the decision that you are worthy. What we want doesn’t matter.” 

 

“It matters to me.” 

 

Brienne looked away from him, toward the endless stretch of the Narrow Sea. “My father said your life depends on this. I would imagine what matters to you is living.” 

 

“Yes,” he conceded. “But it wouldn’t be living if the person I was living with hated me.” 

 

"I know your father only arranged for our marriage to spare your life. Marrying me _is_ your punishment.” She spit the word out. “Your father and the king asked themselves who would be the most desperate for a husband and I was the answer. You’re only here because I’m the ugliest girl in the Seven Kingdoms and you needed someone desperate to save your life.” 

 

Jaime winced, the pain in her eyes an unbearable pressure on his chest. “I know you believe that now. All I ask for, Brienne, is a chance. We have two years. At the end, if you truly do not wish to marry me, I will walk away. I promise.” 

 

She studied him, uncertain. “You promise?” 

 

Jaime nodded. “I swear it.” 

 

*** 

 

It was decided that Jaime would spend equal time throughout the next two years on Tarth and Casterly Rock. On Tarth, he would continue to earn Lord Selwyn’s respect by maintaining the stables and attending to matters with him. At home on the Rock, Jaime would learn the ropes of being the Lord. 

 

His first two months on Tarth were exciting; he explored the land, learned its geography and history. Jaime coached Brienne early in the mornings, working up a sweat in the training yard until the boys – some quite young, others her age – came from town for their lessons and she was able to defeat the scoundrels who made a game of mocking her. 

 

The first separation was difficult. Jaime had come to think of young Brienne as a completely separate person from the adult he knew and loved. He was fond of her, protective of her. But he returned with renewed energy, impressing her with the books he brought and tales of the knights he had once squired for, tales of courtly life. They sparred with swords and words often, not much different than in the world Jaime had come from. 

 

Each separation was worse. She never openly cried when he left, also not much different from the world Jaime had come from. She would say goodbye, her chin trembling, and later he would see her watching his departure from afar. 

 

He thought of his time at Casterly Rock as the true punishment for all of his crimes, and especially for leaving Brienne in Winterfell. Every few months when he returned, it always took a while for her to warm up to him again. And each time, Jaime was taken aback by how she changed – taller, leaner, stronger. 

 

On a morning Jaime was to depart Casterly Rock and return to Tarth, he realized how much time had passed since his father had first made arrangements with Lord Selwyn. He realized that upon his return, it would be time for him to marry Brienne. 

 

*** 

 

Jaime’s first meeting with Brienne after being away so long was not unlike their very first meeting on Tarth. 

 

He found her below the hill, but instead of practicing with her sword she was reclined on her stomach, reading from a book. Jaime could tell she had reached her full height. Her hair was shorter than it had been when he left. He attempted to descend the hill slowly, to be able to surprise her, but he slipped and she heard him grunt as he hit the ground. 

 

Brienne jumped to her feet and let out a bark of laughter. “It is nice to see you haven’t changed in your time away, Jaime,” she said, brushing grass from the front of her breeches. 

 

Jaime took in the sight of her. She looked so much more like the woman he remembered. He could see the swell of her small breasts under her shift. He averted his gaze when she suddenly crossed her arms. “I lost my balance at the sight of you with a book and not a sword,” he said. 

 

She shook her head. “One of these days you will admit you are a clumsy fool.” 

 

“Never,” Jaime said, close enough to hold his arms out, inviting an embrace. 

 

She bit her lip, considering, and then dropped her arms to her sides. She walked into the circle of his arms, briefly folding hers around him. “My father is looking forward to seeing you again,” she said. 

 

Jaime nodded. “I would imagine he has a lot to discuss with me now that we can marry.” 

 

“I’m not going to marry you, Jaime Lannister.”


	6. New Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the risk of having to start over, Jaime tries to prove to Brienne that she can have the life she's always wanted - with him.
> 
> _“We probably have time for one more thing. Let’s see,” he said, tilting his head side to side as he thought. “The ladies I know like to knit but we don’t have the supplies. We could pick flowers or dance. We could... kiss.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and thank you to everyone for the lovely comments. This was a fun story to write. I'd intended to have a couple more chapters but this seemed like the best and most natural place to end.

His first instinct was to be incredulous. He’d spent so much time building a friendship with her. If Jaime had known she was never going to marry him, he would have asked the gods to take him to another time. To another chance. But Jaime knew he had told Brienne that if she decided marriage was not what she wanted, he would walk away. They had forged such a friendship – sending ravens back and forth during their time apart – that he’d not stopped to consider things weren’t going his way. 

 

She could see the hurt in his eyes. “You promised,” Brienne shouted. Unable to stomach his disappointment in her, she turned and ran. 

 

Jaime walked the grounds and encountered Lord Selwyn. He acted as if nothing were the matter, not wanting to alert the older man to any disturbances. When he didn’t find Brienne in any of her usual hiding places, he took a horse from the stable and rode off in search of her. 

 

He roamed the meadows and valleys, dismounting and hitching the horse to search on foot the places he could not ride. Jaime was on the verge of giving up when he came upon a grotto and caught sight of her. He called to where Brienne sat on the stones, yelling above the sound of the rushing water. Jaime ran, breaking twigs under the weight of his urgent steps, to sit beside her. 

 

“Is there someone else?” he asked. 

 

“No,” she said, laughing. “Of course not.” 

 

“Why then? Are you ashamed of the Lannister name? Do you not want to leave Tarth?” 

 

“No and no.” She looked at him, finally. “I don’t want to be the Lady of anywhere, Jaime. I never have. I want to see the world. I want to pledge my service to a deserving king. I want to be a kn-… I want to fight wars.” 

 

Jaime nodded, already knowing that about her. “You can do all of that and still be my wife,” he said. “You realize if you don’t marry me, I will be sent to the Night’s Watch?” 

 

“My father won’t let that happen.” 

 

“He may not have a say in the matter. I promise you, Brienne, you don’t have to give up everything you want to be my lady wife.” 

 

“Promise?” she threw the word at him. “You promised I could say no.” 

 

“I did,” he admitted, sounding angrier than he meant to. “But things have changed. I’ve gotten used to the idea. And you _can_ be a knight _and_ a wife.” 

 

She laughed and looked at him with barely contained rage. “You know that is not true.” 

 

“But it is true,” he swore. 

 

“Women can’t be knights.” 

 

“That is not a written rule, Brienne. That is tradition. Do you know what some people say to tradition? Fuck it.” 

 

She leaned away from him. 

 

“Women can be knights. You can be a knight. I could knight you right here.” 

 

She climbed to her feet, walking away from him. “Stop, Jaime. Please. You sound like a crazy person.” 

 

He chased after her. “I am! I’m crazy. I’m desperate to start our future.” He rushed to her and managed to clasp a handful of her shirt. He urged her to turn around and she did, he reached up to frame her face with his hands. “I want to marry you. I let our fathers negotiate our future but now I am asking because it is what I want. And I know even if you are not sold on the idea of marriage itself, you do not hate the thought of marrying _me_.” 

 

Brienne said nothing, but she trembled between the hard press of his hands. She was scared to think she could have the life of adventure and service she openly dreamt of, and the life of love and family she secretly yearned for. 

 

“I want to marry you and I know you can have the life you want. You can be a lady and a knight. Let me prove it to you.” 

 

“Prove it?” she asked. 

 

His thumbs wiped at the tears streaking her cheeks. “Tomorrow. I’ll prove you can be anything and everything you want to be. After, if you still don’t wish to marry me, I’ll give my fate over to the gods. If you change your mind, we’ll have a wedding to plan. Meet me at the gate with your horse at sunrise.” 

 

*** 

 

Jaime was at the gate as Brienne walked toward him, her horse trotting at her side. She was wearing breeches and a long tunic. Her gaze was on the pile of armor at his feet and chain mail draped over his arm. “What is all of this?” she asked in lieu of a greeting. 

 

He approached her and said, “I promised you could be a knight. This is what a knight wears under armor.” He handed it to her and Brienne hesitated before accepting it. 

 

Jaime watched her put the chain mail over her tunic and bent to pick up the breastplate from his own armor. “I don’t have every piece with me,” he said, gesturing to the plackart and pauldrons on the ground. One by one, he helped her dress in the metal, watching the weight of it register on her face. “Doing okay?” 

 

She nodded, nervous but excited. 

 

Jaime walked away to retrieve something. When he turned back to her, he was holding a sword in its scabbard. He’d borrowed it from Lord Selwyn, the leather belt containing the Tarth sigil. He fastened it around her hips. 

 

She looked down at the sword hanging against her hip and Jaime could see it was the moment she began to think he could be right about everything. 

 

“Where are we going?” she asked as they rode out the gates and down the road, Evenfall Hall growing small in the distance, the sun rising behind them. 

 

“You’ll see,” he answered, and as her horse caught up to his she kicked her leg out to the side, bruising his calf. 

 

“Hey!” he yelped. “What was that for?” 

 

“What was what for?” Brienne asked, feigning innocence. 

 

Soon, Jaime stopped his horse, just before they reached town. He dismounted and Brienne did the same. They were alone in a green valley and Jaime said, “You are now a knight. Ser Brienne, imagine for a moment I am a noble king.” 

 

She laughed loudly, clapping her hand over her mouth. 

 

He rolled his eyes. “I said, _imagine_ I am a noble king. You swear fealty to me.” He paused, and when she remained standing in the same spot, Jaime increased the volume in his voice and said, “I said, you swear fealty to me.” He whispered, “Swear fealty to me, Brienne.” 

 

“Oh.” She began to kneel then stopped. She unsheathed her sword and then knelt before him, laying it at his feet. “I am yours, my Lor-… I am yours, your Grace.” Brienne lifted her eyes to his face and he offered an encouraging nod. “I will shield your back and...” 

 

“Give my life...” 

 

“Give my life for yours, if it comes to that. I swear it by the old gods and the new.” Brienne smiled, her cheeks pink. 

 

Jaime motioned for her to rise. “Now, he said, imagine I am a dastardly Sellsword. I’ve been sent here to kill the king you swore an oath to protect. What are you going to do, Ser Brienne?” 

 

She looked down, shaking her head, finding it silly. But then she heard the rasp of Jaime unsheathing his sword and saw the steel glint under the sun. "I’m going to fight you,” she said. 

 

Jaime felt a chill travel the length of his spine. She was fierce. He held a finger up for her to wait a moment and he ran to the horses, removing two wooden swords, giving her one. 

 

Brienne lunged at him and he struck his wooden sword against hers. He could feel her strength and how much she had improved since their last sparring session. She broke a sweat faster than normal, exerting herself more with the added weight of the armor. He let her get the upper hand and yielded to her. 

 

The two of them rode further, and now and then Jaime would pretend to spot a threat or an innocent in need of help. By the fourth sparring session he didn’t need to let her win; Brienne knocked Jaime onto his back and hovered above him, the tip of her wooden sword pressed beneath his chin. 

 

He wasn’t ready to explain to Brienne how fighting had always been a turn on for them, and he did not want his arousal to scare her off. Jaime give her a gentle push until she stood while he sat on the ground, bent forward, arms covering his lap. 

 

*** 

 

Brienne was not as enthusiastic about being a lady as a being a knight. She protested the removal of the armor and said, “There better not be a monstrous dress in your rucksack, and if there is, I’m not wearing it.” 

 

He shook his head as they hitched their horses outside a tavern. “The first order of business for my lady is a hot lunch,” Jaime told her, offering his arm. He let out a small sigh of satisfaction when she hooked her arm around his and they walked side by side. He was not blind to the looks they received from the sparse crowd inside the tavern, and the rude gawking only made him more attentive and affectionate to Brienne. 

 

Jaime sat beside her rather than across the table. She ordered a kidney pie and he said he’d have the same. She scoffed at the idea of drinking ale but gladly accepted a generous pour of wine. They ate and drank and talked, sitting shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip. Brienne made him laugh and his hand naturally fell to her thigh. She tensed under the weight of his palm, but to the surprise of both of them, she soon covered Jaime’s hand with her own. He suspected she enjoyed being a lady as much as being a knight. 

 

*** 

 

Being a lady, according to Jaime, included an impulsive stop at the market for an apricot pie. It involved mingling with the townsfolk and bartering for goods. Listening to complaints and offering solutions. Settling a squabble between two children over a wooden doll and meandering back to the grotto where he’d found Brienne the day before. 

 

The wisps of purple clouds in the sky told Jaime they had been out from dawn to dusk, as did the way his feet ached inside his boots. He wanted desperately to ask Brienne if she’d had a change of heart but he worried his own heart couldn’t take the possible rejection. 

 

He stood beside her on the damp rock, letting the sound of the water – trickling here, roaring there – speak when he could not. Jaime was relieved when Brienne spoke first, remarking, “I guess being a lady wife isn’t terrible?” 

 

He chuckled quietly and glanced at her profile. Her nose hadn’t been broken yet. She was not only young but innocent – more so than ever. Far fewer scars. Unmarred. A maiden. “You don’t sound convinced,” Jaime noted. 

 

Brienne looked at him and shrugged a shoulder to her ear. They both moved to face one another. “I guess... not that I did not enjoy myself today, but...” 

 

He noticed that her hair was longest in the front where it framed her face. Jaime lifted a hand to tuck an errant strand behind her ear, the tips of his fingers brushing along her jaw. Her nose was burnt from the sun, a stripe of pink skin across the bridge. “We did not do everything today,” he said, watching her throat as she swallowed nervously. 

 

“I suppose not.” 

 

Jaime cast a glance at the sky before returning his gaze to her face. “We probably have time for one more thing. Let’s see,” he said, tilting his head side to side as he thought. “The ladies I know like to knit but we don’t have the supplies. We could pick flowers or dance. We could... kiss.” 

 

She seemed to hold her breath at his last suggestion. “K-kiss?” 

 

He nodded. 

 

“I suppose that would be alright,” Brienne told him, her voice quaking almost more than her hands trembled. 

 

Jaime straightened his spine, squared his shoulders. He wiped his palms on his breeches. He took a step forward until the toes of his boots pressed to hers. “Alright,” he said, thinking of their first kiss in Winterfell – the one only he could recall. He was infinitely more nervous standing by the grotto than he had been standing in her chambers after battle. Jaime cleared his throat and they both lifted their arms at the same time, knocking into one another rather than embracing. He could see hesitation flit across Brienne’s face and he was emboldened by the prospect of losing her. 

 

“Alright,” he said again, louder and with greater conviction. Jaime reached up, cupping the back of her head with one hand while the other gathered a fistful of her shirt where it billowed loosely at her back. He tugged Brienne closer and felt her lose balance for a moment. She wound her arms around his waist, and at first it seemed she’d done so only out of necessity, to keep from falling. But soon Jaime felt her arms tighten and she tilted her head, her lips parting in anticipation. 

 

Her lips stiffened beneath his at the first gentle press. He was still, letting her get used to the pressure and the texture and the intimacy of their mouths and their bodies. Jaime slowly moved against her, brushing across the curve of her bottom lip and then opening his mouth wider, dragging his tongue along the same path. He heard a hitch in Brienne’s breathing and felt the pads of her fingers dig into his back, clutching at him. He smiled and dropped a kiss at the corner of her mouth, on her cheek, along her jaw, and then finally claimed her lips with fervor. 

 

Their teeth clashed and she was resistant to the space his tongue claimed against hers, at first. It wasn’t long before Jaime forgot it was her first kiss – ever – and their first kiss as far as Brienne knew. The press of their lips was soft, demanding, sweet, needy. They only came apart when one of the horses neighed, both of them breathing heavy, weak-kneed and wobbly. 

 

“Does that change your mind at all about being a lady wife?” Jaime asked after he’d caught his breath and his footing, their arms slowly dropping to their sides. 

 

Brienne blushed and smiled, looking away before she had the courage to meet his gaze and say, “Yes. Quite a bit.” 

 

“Do you need more time to think about your decision?” he asked. 

 

“Yes. Thank you.” 

 

*** 

 

They rode back to Evenfall Hall, both of them warm and buzzing as though they’d drank more wine from the tavern. Jaime heard the hooves of Brienne’s horse speed up until she was riding at his side up the road to the house. He’d resisted the urge to ask her every few seconds if she’d made a decision yet, and so he was confused when she said, “Yes, Jaime.” 

 

He slowed his horse to a stop and she did the same. “Yes, what?” 

 

“I had enough time,” she told him. “The answer is yes.” 

 

Jaime stared at her. 

 

“I said yes, you dolt,” Brienne shouted. “Yes, I want to marry you.” 

 

He smiled and felt the weight of the world dissolve from his shoulders. He leaned sideways and Brienne did the same, their horses having to adjust and stand closer so the two of them could embrace. 

 

*** 

 

As he expected, Brienne’s only demand was to skip the bedding ceremony. Her father appeared relieved that she’d mentioned it first. Jaime’s only request was going to be to somehow not invite Cersei, and much to his relief word came she was with child and could not travel. 

 

That alone should have soothed the last of Jaime’s nerves, but he could not help but think Brienne would change her mind. He followed her around, hovered and lingered and stole kisses at every opportunity. When she snapped at him, he made himself scarce, walking the grounds. It was exhausting to be self-conscious and uncertain and he needed someone to talk to. 

 

It was a dreary, rainy day. He walked to where he first saw Brienne as a younger lady, on his first day on Tarth. He looked down the slight hill to where he’d watched her fight the air with a sword. Jaime smiled and began to descend the hill, and just like every other time, his foot slipped and he landed at the bottom. This time he was on his back, staring up at the gray sky, feeling the mist gather on his face and soak through his clothes. 

 

He reclined there and thought of the chances the gods had given him – thought back to the bear pit, to Riverrun. _It will always be yours._ His mind drifted to their entire story, from the fraught days travelling on foot and by rowboat to the way she defended him and fought beside him and gave herself to him after the war. Jaime heard every insult. He felt the pain of every goodbye and the joy of every reunion. Her bravery, her trust. Her strong arms holding him in the baths at Harrenhal. The way she looked up at him when he declared her a Knight of the Seven Kingdoms. 

 

It struck Jaime that by staying where he was, he was giving up the story they’d already written. She would never know how many times they rescued one another. Brienne would never know she led an army and became the first female knight in Westeros. He would have to find a way to make everything good happen for her again, in this life, and if he failed it would be a great travesty. 

 

_Is it time to leave here and take another chance?_

 

He flinched at the voice. “No!” Jaime shouted. “I don’t want to leave.” 

 

_You seem uncertain._

 

“I’m not uncertain. It’s complicated. I know so much about her life. Things that may never happen. How do I know I’m making the right decision?” 

 

_We cannot answer that for you. If you leave, you can never come back to this moment. You would have to start over and you may not get the same result._

 

Jaime thought of all the moments he could go back to and felt that every single one ended in a death or Brienne turning away from him. “If I leave here and leave our story intact, I could still end up dead. Or she could die. I wish I knew which she would prefer,” Jaime said quietly. 

 

He closed his eyes and immediately regretted the decision. There was a flash of white, and suddenly images of he and Brienne flashed behind his closed lids. Jaime wanted to scream, but soon he realized they were not images of the past but the future. He saw a bed of rumpled sheets. He and Brienne seated at the heads of a table, a feast spread out before them. His head resting on the curve of her pregnant belly. A baby asleep against his chest. Their bodies tangled and sweaty. Brienne dressed in armor, her sword slashing through the body of a crazed man. Two young children – a girl and a boy – running in circles on the beach. The two of them fighting back to back and side by side, the bodies of their enemies falling at their feet. Another baby, cradled to her breast. More feasts and fights and countless large and small footprints on the sand. 

 

Jaime’s eyes opened and he sat up, panting. He tilted his head back and saw the clouds part to reveal a gentle, peach sun. 

 

*** 

 

He’d almost given up on finding Brienne when he climbed a set of stairs, his feet leaving muddy tracks and his wet clothes dripping water, to a floor he’d never been to before and heard her voice. Jaime followed the sound and quickly realized she was speaking to an older woman. He panicked, afraid it was the septa who poured water on Brienne’s seeds of doubts and grew her insecurities. 

 

Creeping along the wall, Jaime stole a quick glance into the room and recognized a younger Olenna Tyrell. She was on Selwyn’s list of guests and it didn’t surprise him that she’d want to insert herself into the goings on much earlier than necessary. 

 

Jaime was going to turn and leave, guilty over eavesdropping, when he heard Brienne say, “You don’t know him like I do, Lady Olenna.” 

 

“Young lady, I only wish to make sure you know-” 

 

“I know, Lady Olenna. I know what he’s done. Better than you. I know what he’s capable of. He’s full of himself and irritating and brave and loyal. He’ll never bore me, that’s for sure. You can stand there and tell me every awful thing he’s done or will do but I know he’s a good man. I saw the life we could have together and now that I have... it’s everything I’ve wanted for my life and more.” 

 

Jaime smiled. _A good man_. The last time Brienne tried to tell him that, he refused to listen and she was lost to him forever. He took a deep breath and moved to stand in the doorway, announcing his presence when he said, “There you are, my soon-to-be-lady-wife.” 

 

*** 

 

Two days of festivities began with a grand breakfast, and Jaime and Brienne stood side by side to greet their guests. His favorite moment of the morning was the first introduction of Brienne to Tyrion; it was the first time his little brother had been rendered speechless since birth. 

 

That afternoon, when the sun began to drop lower in the sky, the guests gathered for the tournament. Selwyn had lauded it as quite the event – a tourney to remember, a tourney for the ages. Lords and ladies crowded the benches, watching archery and axe throwing with mild interest. There were whispers, eyes looking about for the bride and groom to be. Women exchanged horrified glances at the prospect of what the two of them could be doing prior to their marriage ceremony, while men waggled their brows and raised their glasses. 

 

The jousting quieted the buzz about Jaime and Brienne’s whereabouts, and when it was finally time for the melee, a hush fell over the crowd. Their eyes were on the two armored knights, both wearing helmets that covered their faces. “Who is it?” someone asked. 

 

The knights took their places and the battle began. The guests in the stands tried to guess the knights’ identity, looking around for any faces missing from the crowd. Soon, though, the melee was too thrilling for any speculation – the knight wearing Lannister gold knocked the other to the ground and stood above him in a hanging stance. The fallen knight, sporting the Tarth sigil etched into his armor, maneuvered and kicked himself up to his feet again to lunge. 

 

Swords sliced at the air, clasped and clanked. Steel hissed across steel. Their feet danced in clouds of dirt. It was beautiful and captivating and suddenly the knight representing Tarth delivered a fierce blow to the other’s plackart, knocking him to the ground. 

 

The Tarth knight took a knee as he grabbed a dagger from his scabbard. He held it to the gold-plated neck of the other knight and the crowd heard a muffled, “I yield,” and the Tarth knight removed his helmet to reveal a head of messy blonde hair. The crowd gasped at the sight of Brienne – the bride. 

 

The knight spread on the ground removed his helmet and tossed it aside, revealing a head of golden Lannister locks. Jaime smiled and said, “I yield to you. Forever,” as he sat up and his lips sought those of his lady-knight. 

 

Selwyn stood, clapping, and soon everyone cheered. Soon everyone remarked that of course the Tarth girl and the Lannister lion participated in their own wedding tournament. They should have expected nothing less. 

 

*** 

 

The guests were seated in the sept and Jaime stood before them, waiting. Brienne appeared on the arm of her father. She wore the Tarth-appropriate attire she’d fought for – pale blue breeches hidden mostly by a long, narrow dress of the same color. Her arms were partially bare under a short, pale yellow cape, and the light glinted on the gold bracelets she wore on each naked wrist. It was the most skin she had showed, outside of Jaime’s memories. 

 

He heard the gods telling him _You must know where you want the story to end before it can have a new beginning._ He thought back to the grass and the rain, the images that flashed behind his closed eyes. He thought about hearing Brienne defending him to Lady Olenna and knew he’d made the right decision. 

 

He watched her approach and knew it was time to let go of the past and focus on the new beginning. Jaime felt as though he’d been waiting all his life for her. Ten lifetimes. Longer, even. 

 

It was time to live the life they had always deserved.


	7. Epilogue I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Husband and wife during the first year of their marriage.
> 
> _“I dreamt of you last night.”  
>  She clucked her tongue, rolled her eyes. “I was right here the whole time,” she reminded him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many kind people remarked about wanting to read an epilogue or two to see Jaime and Brienne's life after the wedding. It was something I'd already been thinking about doing, so I was glad to know there would be an audience. I had to update the rating because the newlyweds can't keep their hands to themselves.
> 
> I might skip back and forth in time and there will be no plot... just slices of life on Tarth and Casterly Rock and wherever time takes them.

“My wife has a voracious appetite,” Jaime said as he woke to the feel of Brienne behind him, her leg bent across his hip and her teeth nipping at his ear. It came as no surprise to him, not after the weeks he spent between her thighs in Winterfell. Before. Brienne, though, was unnerved by her lust. He could feel her recoil and blush as he called attention to it. 

He maneuvered under the blanket onto his other side. He looked at her across the divide she’d created, having scooted away from him in her embarrassment. Jaime thought back to the night of their wedding. Brienne had been nervous, and he’d put his new wife at ease with gentle kisses and caresses. He’d set a languorous pace, removing their clothes garment by garment, stopping here and there to whisper in her ear or pour a glass of wine. Jaime had eased her into his nakedness and her own, and they’d set about a slow exploration of one another until she was beneath him, breathless and begging. _Jaime, Jaime, Jaime_ hot against his ear. 

A fortnight later, it was Jaime’s pleasure to remind Brienne there was no shame in her need for him or his for her. “Good morning,” he whispered. 

The corners of her lips twitched into a smile. 

He slid his hand across the bed until he found hers, lifting it to his mouth to drop a kiss along her knuckles. “I dreamt of you last night.” 

She clucked her tongue, rolled her eyes. “I was right here the whole time,” she reminded him. 

Jaime nodded and held her hand near his throat, letting her feel his pulse quickening as he gazed upon her. “There isn’t a moment I’m not thinking of you,” he explained. “Not wanting you. Even when I’m sleeping.” 

Her eyes fluttered. 

“I think you were dreaming of me too.” 

She answered with a quick shake of her head and then confessed, “Perhaps,” with a sheepish grin. 

“Tell me- no, wait. _Show_ me what you dreamt of.” 

Blush bloomed in her cheeks but Brienne inched closer to him. She snatched her hand away from his clutch only to give his chest a slight shove, urging Jaime onto his back. 

“Oh,” he said, settling against the bed. 

Brienne sat up, dragging the blanket with her, revealing his naked body beneath it. She knelt beside his legs. 

Her gaze alone – wondrous, appreciative – made Jaime’s cock twitch. He was patient, resisting the urge to use his hand on himself or reach and grab her to him. His restraint paid off when Brienne straddled his hips and she gathered her shift in her hands, lifting it to her waist. Jaime moaned at the feel of her warm, wet flesh rubbing against him. He watched her face and could see her shame and insecurities dissolve. 

She took him in her hand, and with little more than two quick strokes he was hard and aching and his body trembled when she sank down around him. Brienne dragged her shift up the length of her torso and over her head, discarding it with a muted thump at the foot of the bed. He moved his hands from her thighs to her hips and kneaded her flesh. Jaime’s eyes roamed from where their bodies were connected to her stomach, the slight indentation of her waist, lingered over her small breasts, and then settled on her face. He liked to watch Brienne find her confidence and chase her pleasure – eyes hooded with lust, teeth pinching her bottom lip, beads of sweat shining on her brow. 

Jaime bucked his hips, earning a series of soft moans from his wife as she leaned forward and braced her hands against his stomach. He drove up into her, felt her clamp around him as she panted – _yes, yes, Jaime, yes._ He meant, as he always did, to spill on her leg or onto his own stomach. But Brienne was still moving above him, around him, and he was overcome and powerless and came undone inside her with a strangled grunt. 

She collapsed against him and they held one another, breathing heavy. 

“I’m sorry, I... couldn’t,” he stammered. 

Brienne shifted, settling beside him. She threw one leg over his and rested her head against his damp chest. 

He lifted a hand to run his fingers through her hair. He thought he wanted to enjoy their life, alone together, for as long as possible. But the idea of seeing her belly grow with life, and the images he’d seen flash behind his eyes before their wedding, had Jaime wondering how much time they really needed before starting a family. “How would you feel if I... put a babe in you so soon?” 

She resituated herself, moving onto her stomach, folding her arms over his chest to gaze up at him. “I don’t think we should _try_ to rush anything.” 

“Right,” he agreed, still wanting to hear more from her. He knew she was apprehensive after losing her mother, but Jaime trusted the vision the gods gave him. “But if it happens?” 

“But if it happens...” Brienne pressed her cheek to his chest, hiding the look on her face when she said, “I think there will be great cause for joy.” 

Jaime smiled and nodded, his eyes welling with tears. 

* 

The early days of their marriage were not unlike the preview Jaime had offered in his bid for her final, resounding yes to his proposal. They ventured into town twice a week to take a meal at the tavern. They perused the market often, buying fish and flowers and fruit. Jaime would surprise his wife now and then with a bauble, something she rolled her eyes at but later wore on her wrist or tucked away in a decorative box. He paid for pies – peach, plum, apricot – when Brienne wasn’t looking. They squabbled over silly things and made peace at the grotto; twice they found a secluded spot where Jaime draped his cloak on the ground and made love to her, the roar of the waterfall hiding their indelicate moans. 

To her chagrin, Brienne never had the chance to be a knight on their adventures. Only when Jaime got a mischievous glint in his eye and they sparred with sticks they collected from the ground. Their swordplay often drew a crowd of onlookers, some rapt at the display, others bothered by it. 

He wanted to knight her, but Jaime knew if he did it so soon, while she was still so young and wore no scars of battle, she would say he only did it because she was his wife. That she didn’t deserve it. Yet. 

* 

Four moons into their marriage, Brienne had to pause her work, flee the stables, and wretch into the grass. Neither of them thought much of it; a sickness had recently made its way through the household. But the next morning Jaime woke to see his wife bent over the side of the bed, heaving into the chamber pot, and the day after that she stopped her horse on the side of the road to lose her supper on the dirt. 

That evening, Jaime climbed into bed beside Brienne and asked, “How long since your last moon’s blood?” 

Her face paled and he grabbed the chamber pot, thinking she was to be sick again. She waved it away and said, “Jaime. Do you think?” 

His eyes drifted down to her stomach, hidden under the billow of her shift. He smiled and hopped from the bed onto the floor, settling between her legs and winding his arms around her waist. Jaime pressed his head to her belly, still flat and muscled. He glanced up and found Brienne looked less enchanted by the notion. “Are you frightened?” he asked. 

After a long stretch of silence, she answered, “Quite.” 

“Everything will be alright.” 

“How could you know that?” 

Jaime kissed her stomach through the fabric of her shirt. 

* 

He touched and kissed and talked to the slope of Brienne’s growing belly at every turn. Jaime could tell she tolerated his attentions but sometimes wished to exile him to another room, to another bed, perhaps to another island. 

She was young, he reminded himself. She was young and active and lost her own mother and carrying the weight of a new life was a dramatic change. An adjustment he could not fathom. But Jaime worried she’d resent the babe and him for his part in it. 

He worried until a misty morning when Brienne shouted to him from her bath, and Jaime ran frightened to her. He found her standing in the water and smiling and waving him over, reaching for his hand. “Here, feel,” she said. 

Jaime reached out and she placed his hand where she wanted, where she’d felt a kick or a punch. He felt only skin slick with water. 

“I felt it,” she insisted. A moment ago. There wa-” 

It happened again and Jaime felt the movement against the palm of his hand. He looked at her with wide, wet eyes. “She’s strong,” he said. 

“She?” 

“Or he,” Jaime conceded. “But I think she.” 

“I feel it’s a boy,” Brienne told him. 

“And I feel you are wrong.” 

She bent her knees, dipping her hand in the bath to flick the water at his face. 

* 

Brienne was swollen with child on the eve of their first wedding anniversary, in bed with pains the day of it, and holding their firstborn daughter to her breast the morning after. Jaime settled on the bed beside her and said, not for the first time, that she’d gifted him something so precious he could never match it. 

“Won’t you at least try?” Brienne asked, managing to somehow sound hopeful and flirtatious and annoyed even as her lids were heavy with sleep and her pains dulled only because of something the Maester gave her to drink. 

“Every day,” he promised. “I do have something for you. I commissioned it a while back and then... well...” Jaime lifted a hand to touch his daughter’s tiny fingers. “Then Joanna happened.” 

Brienne wrinkled her nose, confused. Commissioned? 

“I’ll show you later. When you feel better.” 

* 

The baby was well fed and asleep, and color had returned to Brienne’s cheeks and she felt like taking a walk. Jaime suggested a walk down the hall, and though she first swatted him for his lack of adventure, she soon remembered he’d promised a gift. 

He held her hand until they reached one of the empty bedrooms at the end of the hallway. “What is it?” Brienne asked. 

“Patience, my dear wife,” Jaime said. He approached a white cloth draped over something that was nearly his height. “Ready?” 

She nodded but frowned, uncertain of his display. 

Jaime took a deep breath and pinched the cloth, tugging it away, flicking it to the ground. He revealed a set of armor and said, “I hope I got the measurements right.” 

She approached slowly. Her view of the gift was blurred by the tears stinging her eyes. “Jaime,” she sighed, reaching out to touch the breastplate. “It’s beautiful. It’s... blue.” 

“I wanted it to match your eyes.” 

She smiled and traced the pattern of suns, moons, and lion heads. “I can’t... this is... when will I ever...” 

“You will. You’ll wear it.” 

She looked at him, holding her arms out, welcoming him against her. “I love it. I love you.” 

“Happy anniversary,” Jaime told her, his words punctuated by the sudden and strong cries of baby Joanna. He smiled and released Brienne from his arms, walking alongside her to check on their daughter.


	8. Epilogue II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne welcome visitors to Tarth.
> 
> _He wanted Cersei to see him as he was, as he’d become – husband and father, no need for material possessions when he was rich with his family and the land and the sea._

He remembered their lives before. His life. His with her. The memories were like a dream, some hazier than others. They reminded him of everything he almost lost. They reminded him of all the things Brienne was capable of and deserved and all of the things they needed to save each other from. All of the things he needed to make happen and those he needed to be sure never did. There would be no bear pits. No need to barter for her safety and virtue. No knives, no missing hands. He couldn’t say there would be no dangers and no wars, but Jaime had vowed to not to make the same mistakes twice. 

* 

A raven reached Tarth with news of the King and Queen’s impending visit. Jaime stopped breathing while Brienne felt a rush of honor and excitement followed by significant and silly fears – what food would they prepare, where would the family lodge, what would she wear? 

“You look stricken,” Brienne observed, thinking he would have been thrilled at the news of a visit from his sister and her children. There were two – a boy and a girl. She bent to pick Joanna up from the floor. At just over a year old, the girl was already strong and heavy against her hip. 

“No,” Jaime said, “that is wonderful news.” 

* 

The night before King Robert and Queen Cersei were set to arrive, Jaime was on fire. The blanket scorched his skin. He could not drink enough wine and water. When Brienne stirred and noticed his skin slick with sweat, she fretted he was ill. 

“I’m fine,” Jaime told her in a ragged whisper. She reached up to frame his fevered face with her hands, and her touch singed him. He trembled – fearful of what Cersei would say, how she would treat his wife, what it would do to him to see her again. He knew there was no love there, and he had no lust left for his sister. But she was a poison and in this new life he’d built, he didn’t think Cersei capable of being any better. 

“Jaime, you’re shaking.” 

He shook his head. He gently clasped his fingers around her wrists, holding her hands at his face, his thumbs stroking her soft skin. Jaime leaned forward, capturing her lips beneath his. He climbed onto his knees and wrapped his arms around his wife, pressing her back to the bed. His hands roamed every inch of her body. Jaime cradled her close to him, fucked her with his fingers and his mouth, mapped a path of kisses across her body, thrust into her with abandon, told her he loved her and he loved her and he loved her as they both trembled with release. 

Brienne didn’t understand the depth of his emotion, of his need, but she was ravished to the point of not being able to think about it much longer. And to Jaime’s relief, the solace he found in her arms was enough to calm his nerves and break his fever and he felt assured nothing could disrupt their life together. Nothing. 

* 

He stood over Joanna’s bed, watching her face in slumber, and sighed contentedly when he felt Brienne wrap her arms around him from behind. 

“I slept well,” she told him, her tone wanton and heavy with meaning. 

“Mmm,” he moaned quietly. “As did I.” 

Brienne urged him to turn around and walk with her out of the room. His back to the wall, his hands found her hips and rubbed down to squeeze her bottom. She smiled but took hold of his hands, moving them away. “Jaime,” she said, and her tone was somewhere between concerned and scolding. “Last night was... quite nice, really. Very nice. But you were... different.” 

He sucked in a sharp breath. 

“Please tell me if something is bothering you.” 

“I love my lady-wife, is all,” he said, doubt crackling in his voice. Jaime sighed when he could see that she had not been convinced. “Okay. I’m nervous to see my sister.” 

She shrugged. “That is understandable. It’s been an age.” 

“It’s not the time. Not exactly. There is something you don’t know about me and Cersei.” 

Brienne pursed her lips and listened as he detailed their closeness in childhood, the trauma of losing their mother, and the curiosity and fear that contributed to crossing a line of sibling love. She could see the pain in his eyes, hear it in the way his voice quaked. 

“Jaime,” she said, reaching up to hold his face, lifting his chin from where it rested at his chest. She made him look into her eyes. It was clear she needed more than a moment to reconcile the information, but she could not hold it against him. “You were children. It’s in the past.” 

“It is,” he confirmed, and they shared a smile and embraced and his chest swelled with love. 

* 

Jaime stood, barefoot, on the grass – Evenfall Hall a short distance behind him. He held a sleeping Joanna in his arms, her head cradled in the crook of his neck. The warmth of her soft breath and even softer, blonde hair was a comfort to his nerves. 

He heard Selwyn announce they’d been spotted coming up the hill, and soon the older man and Brienne joined Jaime to await their guests. 

“You have no shoes,” Brienne observed, scandalized. 

Jaime shrugged. He wasn’t going to put on airs for the King and Queen. For his sister and her husband. He wanted Cersei to see him as he was, as he’d become – husband and father, no need for material possessions when he was rich with his family and the land and the sea. 

The caravan of ornate covered wagons became visible and bounced and rolled through the gate. Joanna stirred from the sounds, and probably from the way her father’s heart thrummed loudly in her ear. 

Jaime was relieved when Cersei emerged and he felt only a twinge of sadness. He could see immediately that for as genuinely happy as he was, his sister had to force the smile upon her face. 

* 

“Father is irate you have not moved to Casterly Rock and taken your place as Lord,” Cersei told him. The Lannister twins had been left alone at the table – alone save for Robert passed out in his chair. 

Jaime finished the wine in his cup. He could hear Joffrey and Myrcella in the other room and tried to will Brienne to return. “Yes, well, now that Joanna is bigger we can start to plan for the move.” 

“Bigger?” Cersei laughed. “I imagine she came out with-” 

“Careful,” Jaime warned her, and they sat in tense silence for several minutes before his wife returned. 

Brienne made a face at the sight of the King slumped in his chair and snoring. She cleared her throat and addressed Cersei, saying, “Your grace, the cook made plum cakes if you’d like one.” 

Jaime laughed, hiding it behind a closed fist as Brienne stood behind him and gave his leg a swift kick. The cook was the wet nurse and the wet nurse also helped tend the gardens. Evenfall Hall employed a small staff – nothing grand like King’s Landing or even Casterly Rock. He reached up and clasped Brienne’s hand where it rested on his shoulder. 

* 

The King and Queen cut their visit short and no one at Evenfall Hall was sad to see them depart. The only member of the family anyone would miss was sweet Myrcella, and Brienne promised the girl she was always welcome to come and play with her cousin Joanna. 

Jaime climbed into bed beside Brienne, happy to have things back to normal. “That went... better than I expected,” he said. 

She nodded her agreement. A beat later she asked, “Can I say... never mind.” 

“What?” 

Brienne winced. “It seems wrong to say this of a child but I didn’t much care for Joffrey,” she said, and the look on Jaime’s face made her clamp a hand over her mouth, wishing she could put the words back. 

He shook his head, reaching for her. “He was a bit rough,” Jaime admitted. He wanted to explain that his reaction was sadness and regret – they were truly not his children any longer. He had even less power than before to influence their lives. “Robert is a brute and Cersei is... Cersei. I wish we could raise them.” 

Brienne leaned forward to kiss him and said, “You _are_ a good man.”


	9. Epilogue III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Husband and wife reluctantly depart Tarth for Casterly Rock. 
> 
> _He told her he’d miss the sapphire sea, although he’d see it each and every time he looked in her eyes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I messed with Jaime and Brienne’s timeline, I’m taking liberties with everyone else’s. For this story, Renly lives at Storm’s End. He is not yet a King and has not taken a wife.

Departing Tarth was gut-wrenching for Brienne and not much less painful for Jaime. It was where he’d begun his new life – his new life with her. It was the site of their wedding and the birth of Joanna. It was part of Brienne and had suited Jaime well. He told her he’d miss the sapphire sea, although he’d see it each and every time he looked in her eyes. 

“The Rock overlooks the Sunset Sea,” she reminded him. Blue to gold. Tarth to Lannister. 

It was meant to be a consolation but Jaime could only a manage a morose, “It does.” 

* 

Jaime was pleased that Brienne decided to wear her armor on the road. She would arrive on Casterly Rock looking every bit the knight she truly was and would genuinely be. He didn’t care what anyone else would think – he knew, underneath the metal and mail, she was just as much a Lady. 

His Lady. 

* 

Tywin had sent two men-at-arms to accompany Jaime, Brienne, and Joanna to their new home, and a Tarth cousin, Evelyne, had agreed to make the journey. Tywin had firmly suggested a stop at King’s Landing on the way but Jaime wouldn’t allow it. 

He was grateful for the trusted help – the young men were obedient and eager to please, and Evelyne’s presence allowed Jaime and Brienne to snatch time alone here and there. He could ride in one of the covered wagons with his family rather than always having to guide the horses. 

“Must we stop at Storm’s End?” Jaime asked, referring to the request Lord Selwyn had made for them to spend a night or two resting there. He knew Brienne had not developed a love for Renly the way she had before, and he knew regardless of how the gods had changed things, the youngest Baratheon was not going to be attracted to a woman. But Jaime was irritated to think of seeing his wife with a man she knew, once upon a time. A man she had idolized and dreamt of. Had been willing to die for, even if she didn’t remember it that way. 

* 

Where Tarth was vast and bright and the sea soothed and sparkled, the northern coast of Shipwrecker’s Bay was contained and harsh and the sea crashed against stony shores. Joanna spent the first several hours of their time in Lord Renly’s castle clinging to her mother or father, frightened by the eerie layout and weather. 

“Will she be alright?” Renly asked. 

Brienne dropped a kiss on the top of her daughter’s head. She held Joanna tight against the front of her body, the girl’s legs squeezing around Brienne’s hips, and said, “Yes, Lord Renly. She is brave.” 

“Like her mother,” Renly added and Brienne blushed and Jaime rolled his eyes. 

* 

The adults had stayed up late, drinking wine and touring the castle and listening to Renly’s stories about King Robert. He had wild fantasies about being made a King himself. It was all worthwhile for Jaime when he was gifted with the sound of Brienne’s laughter and she curled up beside him where they sat on the floor by a roaring fire. She would lean into him, rub his thigh – her inhibitions dissolved by the wine. 

It dawned on Jaime that Joanna was safely asleep with Evelyne and he yawned and stretched until Brienne asked if he was ready to sleep. “Yes, I think so,” he told her. “Shall we?” 

They bid goodnight to their host and walked arm-in-arm to their room. Jaime shut and barred the door. He startled his wife, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. 

Brienne could feel him pressing hard against her backside and said, “I thought you were tired.” 

“I only wanted to get you alone,” he growled against her neck, his teeth nipping at her skin. 

She moaned softly and relaxed against the front of his body. 

Jaime worked his hand beneath her shift and cupped her breast. He slipped the fingers of his other hand beneath the waistband of her breeches and began to move forward, walking their tangled bodies toward the bed. Soon, their garments and boots were scattered on the floor and she was sprawled before him. Jaime dropped to his knees, folding Brienne’s legs over his shoulders and burying his head between her thighs. He tasted her, making her writhe and pant, while a storm battered the windows and walls. 

* 

One unpleasant side effect to leaving Tarth was encountering people who looked at Jaime and saw the Kingslayer. He tried to remain hidden or anonymous, not wearing Lannister gold or the sigil, but as the sapphire sea grew further and further away, he was more and more recognizable. 

They were stopped on the road near a market. Joanna spotted a stag in the distance, drinking from the river, and Jaime had to chase after her. While he stood with her at the water, someone threw a clump of wet mud at his back and shouted an obscenity. His instinct was to march after them, to scream and throw a punch, but he didn’t have to do anything. 

Jaime watched as Brienne grabbed a handful of the man’s shirt and reared her right arm back. She landed a punch square in the man’s face, blood seeping from his flared nostrils. 

* 

As their journey progressed, they made fewer stops, longing for a permanent place to rest their heads. But just past Silverhill, Brienne requested one night at the nearest inn. 

Jaime spread out a bedroll on the floor for Joanna, covering her with a blanket, before sitting beside his wife on the bed. “Do you have a fever?” he asked, touching the back of his hand to her forehead. 

She shook her head. She held his hand between hers. “Jaime, I think we might need to keep Evelyne on at Casterly Rock.” 

“Okay,” he said, confused. Surely, she didn’t think they needed to stop to have a chat about retaining the young woman’s services. 

“Because,” Brienne went on, “we’re going to need help we can trust. With a second child.” She broke into a grin. 

Warmth flooded Jaime’s chest and cheeks and he could barely contain his joy, having to stand up. “Really? You’re sure? Do you need to see a Maester?” 

Brienne tugged on his hand, urging him to sit again. “I’m sure. It’s early, but I’m sure. Everything feels exactly as it did with Joanna." 

He threw his arms around her and they fell back onto the bed, elated but tired. “Another babe,” he whispered, smiling. 

* 

The last leg of their journey was on bumpy terrain. Brienne’s head bobbed against Jaime’s shoulder as she slept. He didn’t know how she managed to stay asleep as the carriage bounced and swayed and it made him worry after her and the new life growing in her womb. 

He was distracted when Joanna tugged on the sleeve of his shirt. He glanced to his other side where the child sat snug against his ribcage. 

“Da,” she said. 

It was what she’d taken to calling Jaime. Da and Ma. The sweet sound of it never failed to make his eyes sting with tears and his chest swell with love. “Yes, love?” 

“Dow,” she said. _Doll_. 

Jaime reached down to the sack on the floor, trying not to disturb his wife’s resting spot, and fished around for Joanna’s wooden doll. He gave it to her just as one of the men-at-arms called out, “My Lord, we’ve reached Lannisport,” and Jaime could feel the wheels rolling on smoother ground. 

* 

Two carriages weren’t the epic fleet announcing the arrival of a King and Queen, but the household of Casterly Rock behaved as though it were. 

Jaime could sense Brienne’s discomfort as they rolled to a stop beyond the golden gates and could see two rows of people lining the path to greet them – soldiers, attendants, kitchen staff, chambermaids, Maester. He squeezed her hand and earned a brief smile from her. 

Tywin stood closest to the castle’s main entrance. He looked genuinely happy to see Jaime and his family depart the carriage and take their place as Lord and Lady, but his smile wavered when he took note of Brienne’s armor. 

“Father,” Jaime greeted him, and wondered if he would ever feel as at home there as he did on Tarth.


	10. Epilogue IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new baby and a worried Jaime as Brienne is called away. 
> 
> _“Someday they’re going to write songs about you.”_

The birth of their second daughter had been more difficult than bringing Joanna into the world and Brienne had required more recovery time. The moment the Maester declared her fit for training, she declared her intent to spend the next morning with the soldiers. 

Jaime approached the main training field with Joanna skipping at his side and Lilyan secured to his chest in a sling. He had earned his fair share of gawking and whispering the first several times he carried the baby that way, but the household was beginning to understand that their Lord and Lady held no defined roles as parents or spouses or heads of House Lannister. 

He lifted a hand to wave when Brienne glanced their way. She’d been pleased her armor fit again, and Jaime had joked if they kept having babies, he would commission a set for every stage of pregnancy. 

Joanna held a wooden sword and mimicked her mother’s movements, slashing and striking at the air. “Good work,” Jaime told her, clapping when she struck down her imaginary opponent. 

The soldiers began to disperse and Brienne, wiping sweat from her brow, walked toward her family. She greeted Joanna and bent first to kiss Lilyan, then lifted her head to press her lips to Jaime’s. They walked to a tall, sturdy tree providing privacy and a large circle of shade on the grass. “Help me with this?” she asked, tugging at the knot securing the pauldron of her armor in place. 

Jaime shifted the sling a bit and lifted his arms, removing the pieces above Brienne’s waist. She lifted her chain mail over her head and bent her knees, settling on the ground against the trunk of the tree. Jaime knelt in front of her, removing Lilyan from the sling and Brienne loosened the knots holding her shift closed around her chest. 

She took the baby from Jaime and cradled Lilyan to her breast. Her daughter’s small mouth opened and latched to her nipple and Jaime settled beside them on the ground. “The men look good today,” he remarked. 

Brienne shrugged. “They are distracted.” 

“I would be too with you in command,” he said, dropping a kiss on her shoulder. 

She fought a smile and lost. 

* 

“I knew it was too soon,” Jaime barked at the Maester. 

Brienne had gotten sick on the field and had to be carried all the way to her bed. She was fevered and wretched into the chamber pot. She was curled on her side, shivering under a blanket. “Jaime,” she croaked from the bed, scolding him. 

He dismissed the Maester and knelt on the floor, folding his arms on the bed beside her. 

“Don’t yell at him.” 

“He deserves to be yelled at!” 

“This has nothing to do with Lilyan or training,” she told him. 

Jaime sighed. 

“People get sick,” Brienne said. “I’m not dying.” 

He winced. “Don’t use that word.” 

“Dying?” 

“I said don’t use that word!” He pushed himself up to his feet. 

Brienne rolled her eyes. She shifted onto her back, scooting up to lean against the wall, showing Jaime she could move and did not have to be prone on the bed. “What’s gotten into you?” 

He raked his fingers through his hair, pacing at the foot of the bed. 

“Jaime.” 

He shook his head as he moved to sit beside her. “I was scared. When Lil was born.” 

She nodded. “I survived.” 

“Yes. But you... there are...” 

“Other ways to die?” 

He flinched. _That word._

“Jaime,” Brienne whispered, reaching for his hand. She was almost smiling, touched by his worry for her. Touched by his heart. “I’m fine, I promise. This will pass. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“You can’t. I can’t lose you again.” 

“Again?” 

Jaime sucked in a shaky breath. He stammered, “I mean... I meant...” He thought of all their separations, all the times they said goodbye not knowing if they would ever see one another again. He thought of the dreadful decision he made to leave Winterfell. “In my dreams. Nightmares. I lose you. Sometimes.” 

She squeezed his hand. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

* 

“I have to go to Highgarden,” Brienne announced. 

Jaime finished chewing a bite of fig. “You’re up for it?” 

She nodded. She’d been feeling better for days. 

“Why do we have to go to Highgarden?” 

Brienne picked up her chalice and took a drink, delaying her response. “ _I_ have to go because my father sent a raven. Lady Olenna requested his presence and he’s asked me to go in his place.” 

“Shouldn’t your lord husband be at your side?” 

She shook her head. “Not this time. Lady Olenna still takes issue with my decision to marry you.” She stood from her seat and walked toward him, settling sideways on his lap. She bowed her forehead to his. “I won’t be long.” 

Jaime wound his arms around her. “A minute is too long.” 

Brienne smiled and kissed the bridge of his nose. “I’ll take Lilyan and Evelyne will accompany me,” she said. 

“Braedon, too,” he added, thinking of the most skilled Lannister soldier in the garrison. His wife scoffed at that and he knew the young man would be left behind. 

* 

While Joanna napped, Jaime retreated to the eastern battlements to sulk in peace. 

He had only been wifeless for two and a half days, but it was long enough to unmoor him. It was long enough to send his lonely mind wandering to dark places – his fears and worries, the past. 

From time to time, Jaime felt a pang of guilt – still – for all the things Brienne was unaware of. There were times he missed that version of them – bickering and bantering, on the cusp of love. He had to remind himself that for all the passionate nights in her Winterfell chambers, and all the harrowing triumphs and the thrill of their particular brand of courting, there were painful goodbyes and bodily harm and they had been rootless. 

Jaime looked out at the vast Lannister land spread below him. From where he stood, he could hear the water crashing on the rocks but was too low to see it. He closed his eyes, trying to draw a map of Westeros behind his closed lids, trying to imagine what terrain Brienne and Lilyan were travelling. 

* 

The ride into town was amusing. Joanna asked question after question, wanting her father to identify every tree and structure and stone on the road. When they reached the market, she greeted everyone with a grin and a wave and boisterous, “Hello!” 

Jaime bought an apple and shined it on the sleeve of his shirt. He gave it to Joanna and watched her small teeth nibble at the red skin, slowly gnawing into the flesh of the fruit. She begged for a wooden sword and Jaime reminded her she had many at home. He succumbed to her charm and pleas, though, and for the remainder of the day she chopped at the air with her new toy. 

They stopped at a tavern on the way back and Joanna wanted to know where her mother and Lilyan were. Jaime approximated their location along Ocean Road and described Highgarden and its groves and flowers and fountains. 

If Brienne had been there, she would have pointed out how the tavern wenches ogled him, but Jaime didn’t notice. 

* 

He woke from a fitful sleep, drenched in sweat and teeth clenched. It happened more than once every night of his separation from Brienne. 

Jaime rolled onto his back. He could unfortunately recall every awful moment of every nightmare. The scenes played out on the blank canvas of the ceiling above him – baby Lilyan falling sick, the carriage catching fire, Locke and his band of misfits coming upon them and Brienne losing a hand, or worse. He saw battles and blood. Death and decay. 

He was being driven insane, and Jaime decided for every terrible scenario his dreams conjured, he would replace it with something better. He began to chase the nightmares away by imagining Brienne being strong and noble and defending her family. 

Behind closed eyes, Jaime imagined his wife easily defeating Locke and tucking Lilyan safely in the carriage with Evelyn. He saw Brienne walk to the river and remove her armor piece by piece, wiping it clean of blood and shining the metal until it gleamed in the moonlight. Jaime pictured her knee-deep in the water, bending to scoop the liquid in her cupped hands to wet her hair and wash her body. 

Her naked, pale body. 

A soft moan vibrated at the back of Jaime’s throat and he unlaced his breeches, sliding his hand under the thin fabric. 

* 

It had been several days – too many days – since Jaime received a raven letting him know Brienne was on her way home from Highgarden. He had men watching from the battlements and from every tower. He had taken a break from his own watch when a young man called out, “My lord,” and everything else was shapeless noise as Jaime came to understand his wife had returned. 

He ran and ran, his chest burning, until his feet skidded to a stop mere inches away from her. The first thing Jaime noticed was Lilyan asleep in Brienne’s arms, and after he’d softly kissed the babe’s head, he carefully leaned forward to capture his wife’s lips beneath his. 

“Gods, I missed you,” he whispered. 

Brienne smiled. “We missed you.” 

Jaime leaned back to get a look at them. His eyes widened with alarm as he took note of a bruise – faded to yellow – below Brienne’s right eye, and a mostly healed cut across her chin. “What happened?” he asked, reaching up to gently trace the ragged scab. 

“I’ll tell you later,” Brienne said. “But it’s nothing to worry over. We’re fine.” 

Evelyn stepped forward and told him, “She was so brave, Lord Jaime.” 

He smiled at that and returned his gaze to his wife’s face. “I have no doubt,” Jaime said. He cupped Lilyan’s head in one hand and settled the other at Brienne’s hip. “Someday they’re going to write songs about you.”


End file.
